Grokk charged like an avalanche. Alec leapt back, feet skimming the stone. The earth responded to Grokk — pillars shot upward, walls cracked, debris flared around him like a waking titan.
Alec dodged the first punch. The second came with a block of stone shaped like a gauntlet.
He ducked under it, letting the shockwave pass above. A lesser fighter would have been pulverized. Alec's footwork danced between fissures, using the broken terrain to keep moving, sliding beneath each quake-born attack.
Grokk laughed. "You run fast! That won't help when your legs snap."
But Alec wasn't running.
He was studying.
Grokk's movements were wide, theatrical. Impressive. But they left gaps. Every time he summoned rock, Alec noticed the muscle tension in his shoulders, the half-second delay before strike. He felt it — not with his eyes, but with the heat of Grokk's body.
The Colosseum was sweltering now. Not just from firebenders — but from Alec's own subtle manipulations. He was heating the air, the floor, the stone, amplifying exhaustion.
Grokk stomped and raised a wall.
Alec darted in — closer than ever — and palm-brushed Grokk's side. Not an attack. A test.
Grokk swung. Alec backstepped.
In his mind, the System pinged:
[New Interaction Detected: Energy Transfer Viable.]
Alec's lips twitched. He'd just learned something.
Next time Grokk lunged, Alec didn't just dodge. He reached out.
His fingers grazed Grokk's forearm — and with a twist of intent, Alec drew heat from muscle and bone. Not enough to cripple, but enough to strain. Grokk's swing faltered by a hair.
[New Technique Unlocked: Heat Drain – Siphon kinetic warmth through contact to reduce enemy stamina.]
Alec smiled now. He had a weapon Grokk couldn't see.
Grokk kept hammering the earth — smashing it into fists, walls, spikes. One blow shattered a column. Another sent Alec sprawling.
A rock grazed his shoulder. Pain bloomed.
But Alec didn't slow.
He stayed low. Elusive. Every roll, every slide, drew more heat from Grokk — not firebending heat, but the inner fire of overworked muscle. Slowly, Alec chipped away at the beast.
Grokk was sweating rivers now.
"Fight me!" he bellowed, chest heaving. "Stop hiding!"
"You're fighting yourself," Alec replied, breath short. "I'm just the mirror."
The crowd was silent — watching, hanging on each word.
Grokk growled and lifted a boulder the size of a carriage.
Alec stood his ground. He wanted this.
Grokk hurled it with a grunt of rage.
Alec didn't dodge.
He heated the stone mid-flight.
As it neared, the rock cracked — seams splitting from the sudden change in thermal pressure. The boulder shattered just feet from Alec in a spectacular explosion of debris and dust.
Grokk blinked.
Too slow.
Alec dashed through the dust cloud, ducked low, and slammed his fan — now unsheathed — into Grokk's spine. The heat condensed into a tight lash. It didn't burn.
It shut down.
Grokk's legs folded. The colossus dropped to one knee, then fell forward.
Silence.
Then — eruption.
"BLIND EMBER!" the announcer shrieked. "He fells the BEAST!"
Alec didn't wait for praise. He limped toward the tunnel.
His fan rewrapped, body battered, shoulder scorched. But his eyes — unseen — were sharp beneath the cloth.
He had learned.
The holding corridors were darker now.
The crowd's roar still echoed, but Alec was past caring. Each step felt heavier. His ribs ached. The burn across his back was angry and raw. He found a shadowed alcove and knelt, finally letting himself breathe.
Steam hissed from his skin as he unwrapped his shoulder. The flesh was red, cracked in places. He reached for the balm Linya gave him — almost empty.
Then — a figure approached.
Alec tensed, hand near the fan.
But the boy knelt, not hostile. From his cloak, he pulled out a jade container.
"Medicine," Zuko said.
Alec hesitated. Then took it.
"Thanks," he murmured.
"You need to stop taking hits like that," Zuko added. "He nearly broke your spine. "
Alec winced as the ointment hit skin. Cooling. Soothing.
"I wasn't trying to win," Alec said. "I was trying to understand."
Zuko smirked faintly. "Well, you understood pain, at least."
They sat there, two burned souls in the bones of the arena. Alec didn't ask how Zuko got there. He already knew.
Zuko stood. "You earned this round, Blind Ember. But this place doesn't just test strength. It watches for weakness."
Alec looked up, blindfold hiding tired eyes. "Then let it watch."
Zuko gave a nod — respectful, almost proud — and vanished into the corridor mist.
Alec sat a while longer, the burn slowly fading. The fan rested on his lap. And in the quiet aftermath, the system whispered:
[Technique Evolved: Heat Drain – Now usable to weaken projectiles mid-air.]
[XP gained. Level Increased: 3(mid) ]
Future matches would be harder.
But Alec had learned something valuable.
You don't defeat beasts by roaring louder.
You outlast them.
You make them tire.
And when the fire dims —
You strike.
But for now he needs rest.
The stone corridors were slick with old blood and oil-smoke. He limped, a burn across his left thigh pulsing hot with every step, his ribs tight and bruised from where Grokk's stone-arm had nearly crushed him. His shoulder still throbbed from the chain-burn left in the last match. But none of it bled. That, somehow, felt worse.
He reached the tunnel exit — a narrow hole behind a boarded-up bathhouse — and climbed into the firelit dusk of the capital's backstreets. Ash and amber painted the sky. He moved with the slow, hidden urgency of someone who couldn't afford to collapse yet.
The Ember Leaf wasn't far.
His steps were uneven, but measured. A man bumped him in the alley and cursed; Alec didn't respond. Another recognized his silhouette and whispered, "That's him." But Alec didn't pause. Didn't need recognition. He needed healing.
The little teahouse welcomed him with the quiet flicker of lanterns, the smell of roasted ginger, and the hum of evening wind chimes.
He opened the door to his quarters.
Dim. Familiar. The woven mat. The water basin. The shelf of dried herbs he'd never really learned to use. He knelt.
Alec untied his robes and peeled away the bloodied cloth, careful not to hiss, even though it burned. He pulled out the ointment and medicine Zuko had slipped him before leaving the last match — a muted green salve in a tightly sealed jar. No label, just Zuko's voice earlier:
"For the pain. Fire Nation recipe. Soldiers used it during the Siege."
Alec dipped two fingers into the balm. It was cold. Blessedly so.
He applied it to the chain burn across his shoulder, the welt on his thigh, the cracked skin along his right hand. The pain dulled, replaced by a slow numbing chill. He let out a breath.
The fan rested beside him.
Alec breathed. His body hurt. But his mind… felt sharper.
He picked up the fan and looked at it. Through the blindfold.
He felt the way the heat of the room bent when he focused, gently swaying like a candle flame before his will.
He was changing.
He wasn't just a boy with a fan anymore.
He was a weapon in slow temper.
And like any good blade — he needed time in the forge.
Still kneeling, Alec began wrapping his injuries, steady and calm. One rib at a time. One layer of cloth at a time. He didn't rush. The pain was part of the lesson.
After a long hour, he lay on his mat.
Eyes closed beneath the blindfold.
Breath slow.
Outside, the streets of the capital murmured with distant revelry. Nobles celebrated the bloodsport. Children played with paper lanterns shaped like dragons. The world moved on, unaware of the boy who lay still in the attic of a quiet teahouse, dreaming of heat and silence